said—my service because I knew I could kill him—in his human form, in any case. The Eater of Souls was coming. That came first. I pushed the cards back to him. He looked up at me, surprised.
“Not now,” I said. “Later. Sometime. Maybe. Now we need to find some of those people you talked about, who can answer questions about what is going down here.”
Another beautiful day in Southern California: cloudless and warm, and almost clear. As we headed down the freeway to Costa Mesa through the light Saturday morning traffic, I could actually make out the hills to the south and east that border Orange County. I can’t say I didn’t miss the sharp, cold air of the coast that I was used to, the long, empty beaches, the scent of the fog, the rain, the silence of the woods… but driving down the freeway, among thousands of cars, I was as free as I could be, while still very hard to find.
Richard directed me to a music shop just off one of the main downtown streets. We parked across the street and walked along the opposite sidewalk to World Music: Ethnic and Tribal Instruments. Under the sign was a large display window with masks and colorful draperies, guitars, and strange banjos made out of gourds. To the right of the door was a little brick courtyard with strange metal sculptures and a couple of benches. A group of black guys sat there, listening to the smallest of them drumming on a djembe. He was good. We were about to jay walk over to that side of the street when I caught a whiff of those guys. I stopped and put my hand out. I’ll say this for the demon, he paid attention. He stopped when I did.
They were bears. Not the drummer, he was straight human. I thought about it, trying to remember what I knew of our larger cousins. I’d never met one before. I hadn’t expected to find them in the city but, frankly I’ve never believed that myth about hibernation. And there were four of them. I decided they probably would not commit mayhem on a city street. Probably. Anyway, I could run. I wondered if the sage we had come to see was a bear as well, or if she just had powerful friends. I started across the street.
We were downwind. I saw them notice us, without turning. I knew to the second when they got a whiff of me. All four of them turned at once. They didn’t get up, but they sure seemed awfully big all of a sudden. I stopped on the sidewalk so they could get a good look and smell of me.
“Hey,” I said.
“How’s it going?” one of them said after a moment.
“All right.” I sure had their attention. The little guy left off drumming, not sure what was going on. The demon kept behind me. I made my intentions clear. “We’re looking for Madam Tamara. This her place?”
The next-to-biggest guy answered me. He had a heavy face, and a scar over his brow across one eye. “Sure is. She’s probably in back.” He nodded to me, friendly, and turned back to the drummer, who was still smiling uncertainly. The others nodded in their turn. I nodded back and went on by. I didn’t realize how keyed-up I’d been until I let go of my breath as we passed them.
“You meet those guys before?” I asked Richard. “Is that why you couldn’t see Madam Tamara?”
He shook his head. “I never got that far. She has wards all around this block.”
“I didn’t feel any.”
He smiled wryly. “Demon wards. For such as I am. I couldn’t cross them, if I didn’t have this.” He touched the pocket of his jacket where he kept his soul. He stepped ahead and opened the door for me. “Are they her bodyguards?”
“Couldn’t you tell?” I asked him. “They’re bears.”
His face changed. “Oh.” He was still standing there staring back at them as I went inside.
I stopped just inside the door, taking in an intoxicating medley of scents as the hair rose on my arms. Wood, incense, cloth, paints and dyes, and a brush of traces of people from far away places, who ate differently, who had sweated and sometimes bled
“Not now,” I said. “Later. Sometime. Maybe. Now we need to find some of those people you talked about, who can answer questions about what is going down here.”
Another beautiful day in Southern California: cloudless and warm, and almost clear. As we headed down the freeway to Costa Mesa through the light Saturday morning traffic, I could actually make out the hills to the south and east that border Orange County. I can’t say I didn’t miss the sharp, cold air of the coast that I was used to, the long, empty beaches, the scent of the fog, the rain, the silence of the woods… but driving down the freeway, among thousands of cars, I was as free as I could be, while still very hard to find.
Richard directed me to a music shop just off one of the main downtown streets. We parked across the street and walked along the opposite sidewalk to World Music: Ethnic and Tribal Instruments. Under the sign was a large display window with masks and colorful draperies, guitars, and strange banjos made out of gourds. To the right of the door was a little brick courtyard with strange metal sculptures and a couple of benches. A group of black guys sat there, listening to the smallest of them drumming on a djembe. He was good. We were about to jay walk over to that side of the street when I caught a whiff of those guys. I stopped and put my hand out. I’ll say this for the demon, he paid attention. He stopped when I did.
They were bears. Not the drummer, he was straight human. I thought about it, trying to remember what I knew of our larger cousins. I’d never met one before. I hadn’t expected to find them in the city but, frankly I’ve never believed that myth about hibernation. And there were four of them. I decided they probably would not commit mayhem on a city street. Probably. Anyway, I could run. I wondered if the sage we had come to see was a bear as well, or if she just had powerful friends. I started across the street.
We were downwind. I saw them notice us, without turning. I knew to the second when they got a whiff of me. All four of them turned at once. They didn’t get up, but they sure seemed awfully big all of a sudden. I stopped on the sidewalk so they could get a good look and smell of me.
“Hey,” I said.
“How’s it going?” one of them said after a moment.
“All right.” I sure had their attention. The little guy left off drumming, not sure what was going on. The demon kept behind me. I made my intentions clear. “We’re looking for Madam Tamara. This her place?”
The next-to-biggest guy answered me. He had a heavy face, and a scar over his brow across one eye. “Sure is. She’s probably in back.” He nodded to me, friendly, and turned back to the drummer, who was still smiling uncertainly. The others nodded in their turn. I nodded back and went on by. I didn’t realize how keyed-up I’d been until I let go of my breath as we passed them.
“You meet those guys before?” I asked Richard. “Is that why you couldn’t see Madam Tamara?”
He shook his head. “I never got that far. She has wards all around this block.”
“I didn’t feel any.”
He smiled wryly. “Demon wards. For such as I am. I couldn’t cross them, if I didn’t have this.” He touched the pocket of his jacket where he kept his soul. He stepped ahead and opened the door for me. “Are they her bodyguards?”
“Couldn’t you tell?” I asked him. “They’re bears.”
His face changed. “Oh.” He was still standing there staring back at them as I went inside.
I stopped just inside the door, taking in an intoxicating medley of scents as the hair rose on my arms. Wood, incense, cloth, paints and dyes, and a brush of traces of people from far away places, who ate differently, who had sweated and sometimes bled
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